Part I I knew I should have stayed away. I knew it. In fact, I'm guessing I would have found that strength of will to do so - if she was just a little less than all she was. Hell. That was like wishing the moon was blue or the sun shone at night. Because in fact, there was no way Nina Kane could be anything less than the blight-of-my-life that she was. The first time I saw her she almost blew me to kingdom come. Later we found out it was a misunderstanding. Like that would be a big help had she succeeded in putting a hole through my chest. Then she apologized so prettily, with those big brown eyes of hers, that of course, simpleton that I was, I did. Okay, I could live with that, I told myself. You'd think that after that episode life would turn back to normal. At least, that's what I let myself think. But noooo, Sam's butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth kid sister had to have a multitude of little secrets, one of which was the insignificant fact that she was a deputy US marshal on the trail of a cold-blooded half-Indian. Then she runs away from the station and has us all scouring the area the entire night and well into the morning. Sweet Mary! I could've spent the night comfortably settled on my cot, earning a well-deserved rest. Instead I spent hours staring into the ground - in the middle of the christforsaken night, no less - looking for her trail; and all the while pictures were running through my head like an endless parade, seeing her laying dead or injured in one of the thousands of trails around the area. More than once I thought of turning back, especially when I went farther and farther off the beaten tracks. More than once I thought I'd lost her trail and considered going back, just in case Nina had come to her senses and gone home . But I didn't. I had always listened to my instincts, and that time, every instinct I had was screaming NINA'S IN DANGER!!! The thought of turning home, empty-handed while the chit was somewhere bleeding to death was more than I could bear. I couldn't face Sam and Emma and watch their faces fall with grief. So I told myself that I was doing it for them, for Sam. Sam had saved my life too many times- I owed him. When I heard her scream, my blood ran cold. Half of me, the cool, logical Buck, was relieved. If she could scream, then she was still alive. Search was over. But the other half of me, the wild, savage side the I struggled so hard to guard against - almost lost control. I was in a rage that she was being hurt and that I had failed to find her in time to protect her. Then to see him standing over her bloodied figure, leering at her pain-filled face. I just lost it. I'd never killed a man in cold-blood before, not even when I was living with my mother's people. But at that moment I could have gladly killed the bastard a dozen times - painfully. In retrospect, I guess maybe I was bone-tired and on edge and worried. The ride home was a blur to me. I remember cradling her unconscious body, careful not to jar her too much. I vaguely recall murmuring to her, trying, I guess, to reassure her. Not that she could hear me. She'd lost a lot of blood and was barely hanging on. But I felt so helpless and it was better than the deathly silence that hung over us. Three days. Three god-awful days before the girl woke up. It felt like forever. Everyone was walking around on tiptoes, speaking in low tones, as though the slightest noise would drive her away for good. I couldn't help myself. The moment I woke up from a short, restless nap I slipped into her room. I knew what the doctor said, knew she was over the worst. But until I could see for myself, until I could hear her voice and feel her eyes touch me I didn't dare hope. Too many people had slipped away from my side. Watching Sam was almost painful. He looked twice his age, was haggard, drawn and unusually withdrawn as he watched over his sister. Only Emma had been able to force him to eat at all, or to rest on brief intervals. The rest of his time and will had been spent watching Nina breathe, willing her to wake up. I understood his desperation. Those of us, who no longer had a family to call our own, we all understood. Nina was his last link to his family. The last blood tie. I understood Sam's pain. I could even understand Emma's. But I couldn't understand mine. I'd done all that I could to save the day. No one blamed me. In fact, Emma had thanked me profusely. Even Sam had pumped my hand in gratitude. I was the hero that had saved the damned damsel in distress. So why, when I gazed down at her, did I feel all wrenched up inside? Why did I feel the need to sit by her bedside, then cursed myself for not doing so and walking away? I'd heard a Chinese saying once, something about owning the life that one had saved. But that was bullshit. I couldn't think of anything worse than being responsible for that child-woman forever. Nope, no way. I was just more tired than I'd first thought. That, or I'd been under the sun too long and needed to retire to somewhere cool. Somewhere where memories of flashing brown eyes or soft, trembling lips couldn't reach me. Yup, that had to be it. There was no other explanation. I couldn't possibly be feeling an inexplicable tenderness for that stubborn, temperamental, headstrong half-girl. It was just a phase, a turn of the moon influencing my sensibilities. That had to be it Part II I felt a lot better once I'd settled my thoughts regarding her. More at peace. In control. I even managed not to stare too much once she was up and about the station. Managed to sit across her on the dinner table and eat normally. Managed to act the way I usually acted. After about a week I was congratulating myself. Job well done. Hah. The first inkling I had that I was not in the clear was when she walked up to me one sunny day just after I'd ridden in. It had been a long trip and I really wanted a bath and some shut-eye, not necessarily in that order. "Hello." she sounded shy, uncertain, and I suddenly recalled the last time we'd met like this - the flash in her eye as she'd pointed her six-shooter straight at my heart. I shot a glance at her hands before I could help myself. She must have read my mind, because she raised both hands, her mouth curling into a mischievous smile. "Not this time." I responded to that smile. "I didn't think so." I started walking out of the stables, and she fell into step. "Hard ride?" she asked sympathetically. I must have looked a wreck, and I frown at the sudden urge to dust my clothes and wipe my face. "No more than usual." I suppose I was a little gruff, because she fell silent for a good while. I wanted to kick myself for taking my exhaustion out on her. "The rains made the trail more slippery, and sleeping under the stars is all very good when the ground your lying on is dry, but have you ever tried to sleep on mud?" Pretty lame, but it was the best I could do. I was never any good at humor. That was Cody's forte. But she actually laughed! Somehow, that sound eased a good part of the ache in my joints. That more than anything alerted me to the danger. "Will you take me riding?" I froze. For a moment there I thought I'd imagined the request. "What?" She must have heard the incredulity in my voice, because she stared at the ground rather intently. "I was asking if you could take me riding." she repeated. "Sam's busy today and the other guys are out." "I'm tired." I had to admit, the realization that she'd settled for me because no one else was around annoyed me. Which probably led me to be more abrupt than I had intended. "No hard riding." she said plaintively, "I just want to take a look around. I've been cooped up the entire week already!" "If Sam won't let you ride alone, then you're probably not yet ready to ride." I told her firmly. "I'm fine!" she shot back, "The doctor said I can ride anytime I want. Sam's just being overprotective." She was right. Sam was hovering. Even Emma said so. But I was tired and annoyed and really wanted to be alone. "Look, you may be right. I really don't know. But I do know that I'm bushed and it would really be best if you just waited for someone else to give you a tour, alright?" I wasn't looking at her then, but I heard the hurt in her voice anyway. "Fine." I made myself go on walking eventhough she'd stopped. Damn the girl, why couldn't she just take a hint? I was almost at the bunkhouse. I could feel the beckoning warmth of my bed. I cursed myself as I stopped and turned. She looked so forlorn, standing there, gazing at the open land, her hands jammed in her pockets. I sighed, wondering why this girl had such power over me. Reluctantly, I went back to her. "Give me one good reason why I should haul my ass back up that saddle." For a moment I wasn't sure that she'd answer. Nina had quite a temper, as we'd all seen, and after what I'd said I was half-afraid that she'd cut me to ribbons with her tongue. Women had a way of doing that when they're pissed off. Instead, Nina kicked a perfectly innocent stone, watching as it skipped and tumbled across the dust. "I'm leaving tomorrow." she said quietly. A good solid punch in the solar plexus would have felt much better. I blinked. "What?" I didn't realize I'd yelled the word until she winced. I tried to calm myself, "Did you just say that -" I couldn't make myself say the damned words. She nodded. "Sheridan has a job for me." Lt. Brook Sheridan. US Marshal. Her boss. Damn the man. "Does Sam know?" I suppose it was surprise that made my voice come out all strangled. Again, the nod. "That's why he stormed off this morning." she said with a helpless little shrug. "It's too soon." I told her tersely. She glanced at me then, her eyes sparking. "Not you too." I realized she'd heard the same line from Sam. I guess we were all having difficulty reconciling this little girl-kid sister image we had of her with the highly capable deputy marshal that she was, that she had to be, if the way Sheridan harped after her was any indication. And she was right anyway. She was ready. "Do the others know?" I couldn't seem to get past that line. She shook her head. "I'll tell them tonight at dinner." she replied. "No sense in prolonging the goodbye's." At my questioning look she explained. "I leave at first light. It's a long way to Eagle Creek, and that's where Sheridan needs me." She shot me a glance, "Well, is that good enough reason for your ass?" Our eyes met. There was a look in her eye that I wasn't ready to acknowledge, so I looked away. She was leaving. Hell, I'd always known she wouldn't stay for long. She wasn't one of us, she had her own life. And we played no part in that life. None at all. We were just her brother's friends. Nobodies in the greater scheme of things. Again, my level-headed side advised me to get some rest. It had really been a tough two days on the saddle. Besides, she would be out of my life in the morning. Did I really want to store more useless memories to brood over? I almost gave in. However, the reckless Buck in my head couldn't just let go. All he could think of was that she was leaving me come tomorrow. Back to her own world. Would it be so wrong to grab some time with her before she left for good? "Alright." She looked as surprised as I felt. "But I'm starving, so if you could wheedle some sandwiches from Emma I know a good place for a picnic." A picnic. How original. I wanted to scalp myself. "Wait here." she instructed with a radiant smile before running for the house. I watched her, as much dazed by that blinding smile as by my own impulsiveness. However, once I got used to the idea of spending the day with her, I found myself grinning too. Part III "It's beautiful." I shrugged, even as my chest wanted to swell with pride. It wasn't as if I owned the place, so why should her open delight feel like a personal compliment? Come to think of it, when did her compliments start to matter anyway? Nina's face was alight with pure enjoyment as she gazed around, and when I looked at it through her eyes, I realized she was right. Subconsciously I guess I've always known the place was special. After all, I had sort of made it mine- a private spot where I could think and relax and just be alone. It was a lightly shaded area a good distance from any trail, dotted with wildflowers and carpeted with springy green grass. In the distance I could hear the steady gushing of a nearby stream, mixed with the sound of birds calling to their mates or maybe simply making themselves heard. Yes, this place was special, and though I would rather be shot than admit it, I was glad I'd brought her there. It felt right. Once we'd spread the blanket and laid the food out, conversation stopped. I was busy wolfing down Emma's sandwiches - I wasn't lying about being starved - and Nina seemed content to munch on an apple while she looked around. Looking back I realize she was trying to take it all in. To memorize everything. As though she was afraid that she might forget and not be able to find the place again. Or, maybe, afraid that she might not get the chance to come back again. "I envy you sometimes." I almost choked on the sandwich when she said that. I remember staring at her in disbelief, though, of course, I suppose my face gave very little away. Stoicism was second-nature to me. She blushed, her eyes dropping away. She probably sensed my skepticism, since she elaborated on that rather cryptic remark. "Y'know, the simple life - knowing exactly what you're doing today and tomorrow, knowing where you're headed for, and liking it." A faint shadow crossed the expressive face. "I sometimes wonder what it would be like to have that kind of certainty." She made my life sound as interesting as a plateful of flapjacks, and I almost answered with a cutting remark. But then I saw the hint of sadness in her eyes and the words died before they made it to my tongue. Instead, I heard myself saying with a lot more gentleness than I had come to expect from me, "I don't know that my life could be considered `simple'" I was half-Indian - in the eyes of many from both sides that made me an abomination. Whatever peace I had now, whatever certainty and direction, I had achieved through sweat, blood and tears. And the struggle was far from over. Simple? Hardly. But she didn't know that, and I didn't explain. I told myself that she would be gone on the morrow. Laying myself bare was not an option. Instead, I focused on what she said, and on what she didn't say. I admit, I was curious. On one hand I felt that I knew her very well, but then again, once I thought about it, what did I know, really? I knew that she was Sam's sister, the only family he had left. I knew that she worked for the government, and that she was good at her job. I knew that she was a fairly competent tracker and that she was an excellent rider. Jimmy said that she was good with a gun, and coming from the fastest gun this side of the territories I took that to mean that Nina was exceptionally sharp. But aside from that, what else did I know? What else did anyone know? Sam was her brother but even he tread carefully around her. Nina's near-brush with death had shaken him badly, and so now he bent over backwards to keep from upsetting her. I knew he had questions, lots of them, at the back of his mind. But for now he kept them there. They were working on trust first. I figured it would be tough for the sheriff/marshal. After all, Nina was asking him to trust her on instinct rather than fact. Not that that would have been so difficult. There was something about Nina that made people believe in her. She was forthright, was even painfully blunt most of the time, as when she had confronted Sam about the latter's inheritance, and then again over his snooping. She was fiercely loyal, choosing to risk life and limb in order to mete justice for her friend's murder. She had spunk and raw courage, enough to live a difficult life. But she was also quick to laughter. She was openly affectionate around the people she liked, and teased and pulled pranks worthy of Cody himself. Yet there was also that haunted look that sometimes flashed in her eyes. Of pain buried far beneath the layers of her smiles. Of a past that could very well be the key to unlocking her secrets. She was an incredible mix of strength and vulnerability, and like moth drawn to the flame, I wanted to know more. I trusted Nina, but I didn't trust her past, and that bothered me more than I wanted to admit. "So, when are you coming back?" I asked with more casualness than I felt. She tensed, her movements stilling abruptly. "You're not coming back." I concluded in a curiously flat voice. I didn't understand the sudden anger I felt. Nor the sense of betrayal. Not when I'd always known that she'd leave one day. But damn, I was angry, and I did feel betrayed. Just because I didn't understand why I felt the way I did didn't make those feelings any less real. Or painful. The brown eyes that met mine were turbulent. "Buck-" she paused, then tried again, "I want to come back. I do." she reiterated insistently, "But I'm not sure that I can, or that I should." I gazed at her steadily. Waiting. She looked away. "I learned a long time ago that marshals live on borrowed time." she stated simply. "I have many enemies, Buck. Enemies who will stop at nothing to get back at me." she shrugged, "I just don't think it's wise to lead them here." She was right, of course. On every count. Yet instead of appeasing me her matter-of-fact reasoning served only to enrage me further. "We can take care of ourselves." he stated coolly. Nina glanced away. "Pete was one of the best, Buck. He taught me most everything I knew. And still he died." she said after a while "He was a just man. A good man. He fought for justice and peace, and he only wanted to be happy with his family." she shook her head, "It wasn't fair, Buck. He didn't deserve to die that way." "You're afraid." I realized. She stared at the half-eaten apple in her hand, then flung it away. We both watched it arc over the air before it hit the ground and tumbled out of sight. "Yes, Buck, I am." she said quietly. "I'm not afraid of dying or getting hurt in the line of duty, but I'm terrified that someone I care about can get hurt because of me. I -" she expelled a violent breath, "I won't take that risk." The stark simplicity of her words, the frank honesty in her admission blew me away. Any other man would have scoffed at the idea of fear. Any other girl would have demurred and changed the topic. I know I would have cut off my tongue rather than expose my vulnerability so openly. Our eyes met, and in that instant, I knew I was caught. A part of me will forever be marked by this unpredictable woman, for better, for worse. I knew that as clearly as I knew my name. The odd thing was, the discovery didn't freak me out. All my life I had fought against forming attachments. The bonds I had with the rest of the riders had taken a long time to forge, and even now I sometimes find myself disturbed by these ties. And yet again, this bond with Nina felt - right. I couldn't explain it. "We all take risks, Nina." I looked out over the land I loved, "Everyday I ride out and I know anything can happen. My horse could lose a shoe. I might get thrown. Get attacked for being a half-breed. Anything. There's no guarantee that I can come back whole. Maybe not even come back alive." I could feel her stare on my face. "But I choose to go out again the next day anyway. We don't live as dangerously as you do," I conceded calmly, "but we're no strangers to risks. We do know that no one can guarantee our safety, and we don't expect you to." "It's not that simple." she muttered. "It is." I countered. Again, that silence. "Y'know, Pete and I- we were partners for a long time. I always thought he'd outlast me as a marshal. He was very dedicated to the job." Pete again. I began to wonder at this man. With an effort I wrenched myself back to her voice. "Then he fell in love. Got married. Had a family." she shrugged, "He changed, gradually. Couldn't concentrate on the hunt. Worried about his wife. Mooned over his kid. He became afraid to take risks." she sighed. "One time he almost died. Another time his hesitation almost got me killed." I began to understand. She lifted troubled eyes to mine. "I joined the service in the beginning because I had no other choice at that time. But even then I understood that my job meant taking risks. I could do that. My life was mine and mine alone. I had no one who would have grieved for me or worried over me." "But now you have Sam." You have us. Her lips curved in a rueful smile. "Yes, now I have Sam." I have you. I thought furiously. "Would it be so terrible for you to leave the service?" Her eyes widened. The thought had obviously never occurred to her. "I - I don't know." "Think about it." It was supposed to come out a suggestion, and I winced inwardly because it sounded more like an order. She smiled, and the warmth in it reached out to me. "Maybe I will." We lapsed in a companionable silence. We both knew that the issues were far from resolved. There were decisions to be made, and they were going to be hard ones. For her. Life was never easy. I understood too that she was still leaving tomorrow, eventhough she said nothing. She didn't need to. She was a marshal, and for as long as she wore that badge she was sworn to uphold her duty. I understood. We headed back soon after. The sun was getting too hot and Nina still had to pack. Back at the stable I watched while she unsaddled and rubbed down her horse. I didn't make the mistake of offering to help - Nina would have seen that as a slight. She was fiercely independent. "Buck?" she began as we walked out of the stables, "Don't see me off in the morning." I stopped in my tracks and stared at her blankly. I'd been wondering if I should. I wanted to, but wasn't sure that doing so would help. Now I knew. She gazed up at me solemnly. "Leaving will be hard enough without that." Unsaid was the uncertainty and worry that she will be leaving behind. She wasn't only referring to him, he knew. The same request will be made of everyone, even Sam. Another reason for riding out at first light. I nodded. She smiled, her eyes softening. "Thank you." For the ride. For listening. For understanding. For a lot of things that were not said but were nevertheless there. As she turned and walked away I whispered. "No, Nina...thank you." The End Email Gail Ang HOME